And To All A Good Night
by FilledeMarius
Summary: Five vignettes about past Christmases celebrated by members of the Hellsing Organization as children, featuring Pip, Seras, Integra, Walter, and Alucard in that order.
1. Pip

"_Quelle est cette odeur agréable_?"

A young Pip Bernadotte yawned and his grip on his grandmother's hand loosened as the choir began to sing. He began to sway slightly with the rhythm of the song and his grandmother pinched his hand. He made it through another verse before he began to rock again, wider this time, and she did it harder.

"_Philippe! N'endors pas_!" she hissed at him.

"Nathalie," his grandfather said in a low, gruff voice. "Don't be so hard on the poor boy. It's midnight. Normally, he would have been in bed four hours ago and he spent most of the day running around."

"It's midnight Mass; it's only once a year. He should stay awake. It would be sinful for him to fall asleep."

Pip quietly thought that it was sinful of her to put words in God's mouth because he was fairly sure that if God was worth his salt, he would not make them wait until the wee hours of the morning to celebrate the birth of his son. He was not alone in this; he had heard _Grand-p__è__re_ grumbling about the same thing. However, he kept this to himself because he knew well that he would hear about it for weeks on end if he dared to voice it.

His hand slipped out of his grandmother's as his eyelids began to droop once more. He startled when he felt _Grand-p__è__re_'s hand on his head, but went with the action as he was gently leaned against the older man's hip. Grateful for the support, he closed his eyes as an arm slipped around his shoulders to steady him as Pip drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the feast that would follow Mass.

_Le Réveillon_.


	2. Seras

"Michael, get the camera ready!"

And it was with a great deal of interest that the camera followed the small procession of determined angels marching onstage. Some of the wings were bent out of shape, a few halos were crooked, and the angelic robes still looked an awful lot like the bed linens they were originally were, but the sheer resolve on their faces more than made up for it.

The wise men and shepherds that followed them were not nearly as confident. The one shepherd was obviously ashamed of the brown, white, and blue pinstriped bathrobe that was his costume and one of the wise men looked particularly perturbed while carrying his gift. The pageant director had not seen his reasoning that since both frankincense and frankfurters started the same way, he should bring the baby Jesus a pack of sausages as a gift. He was told by the director that he was especially not allowed to bring the baby Jesus a packet of sausages because of his tendency to chase after anyone who came within range with them, and if he did, so help me, you will hear about it until you turn eighteen. To a small boy, this was certainly forever, so his sulky silence averted the possibility of a potential pageant disaster.

In the back of the church, Seras Victoria tried not to look at the doll she was holding. Its eyes followed her everywhere and she would have preferred a different one. It was hard to cultivate a loving, caring expression when looking into the face of a Jesus whose wide, soulless eyes belonged in a horror film. Her mother waved to her and smiled and then scolded her father when he turned away from the camera long enough to grin at her. Seras looked down at the costume her mother had made especially for her and swallowed.

As the music swelled, she tried to think virtuous thoughts and not about smashing in the face of the baby Jesus while attempting not to squint in the glare of the spotlight as she slowly began to move up the aisle, an equally uncomfortable Joseph at her side.


	3. Integra

It was warm and fluffy and Integra Hellsing had absolutely no intention of moving from the couch.

She was swaddled in a bathrobe that was much too big for her and eyeing a cup of hot chocolate filled to the brim with marshmallows impatiently, wondering whether she should wait for them to melt or if she should eat them along with the hot chocolate. The glow of the lights from the Christmas tree cast colored shadows upon them. She poked them down into the drink with her spoon and sighed.

"Ah, choices." Arthur Hellsing indulgently smiled at his daughter. "Such difficult things, aren't they?"

She nodded emphatically and looked up at her mother for conformation.

"You are lucky to live in a country where you have so many choices." Nevertheless, she smiled and gently tousled her daughter's hair, her skin tone a sharp contrast against the almost white blonde color. "Still, you should have all of the choices possible in the world. Only the best for our favorite daughter."

"But I'm your only daughter," Integra pointed out as she shifted to cuddle against her mother.

"Well, that should hardly invalidate it, love; it only strengthens my resolve." Arthur, whose right arm was already around her mothers' shoulders, slung his left arm underneath her arms and pulled the two of them close. "How fortunate I am to have two of the loveliest ladies in England in my arms this Christmas."

Integra giggled and her mother smiled demurely at her husband while gently rolling her eyes.

He sighed and his grip on them tightened as he stared into the fire. "How very fortunate."

His daughter followed his lead, wondering exactly what her beloved father saw in those flames.


	4. Walter

"Come on, lad! Can't keep your mother waiting, can we?"

Walter was now practically jogging to keep up with his father's pace. "No, sir!"

He laughed and swung his son up onto his shoulders, carrying him the rest of the way home. Walter quickly grew accustomed to the view and balanced well, despite the large turkey that his father was holding.

His mother clapped her hands when she saw it. "Oh, that's a big one! Biggest one we've ever had!"

"Sir Hellsing is nothing if not a generous man, Sally," his father said, placing it on the table. "I've always said that."

"We'll be eating turkey for weeks." She smiled at Walter. "Not that you'll be complaining."

A bit later, the turkey was roasting over the fire, its flesh slowly turning a golden brown. Walter tried not to drool as he watched it rotate over and over, hypnotized by the motion. His mother tapped him on the shoulder.

"Set the table, dear. And see if you can get that look off your father's face, will you?"

Confused, he turned to see his father sitting at the table, staring at the bird in a similar fashion.

"Like father, like son, I suppose." She ruffled his hair fondly.

"Mum," he whined, pushing her hand away and shaking his head.

"Sorry, I forgot that you're a man now." She grinned as Walter puffed up his chest and went to set the table in the manliest fashion he possibly could. "My boys. I don't know what you'd do without me."


	5. Alucard

"This is a most un-princely behavior!"

Vlad ducked behind the tree he had thrown the snowball from and stifled a laugh. He winked at Radu, who was hiding opposite him, and his brother began to prepare another one. Their tutor glared at the trees, irate that the two young princes had not at all been in the mood for their history lessons today.

"Your brother Mircea would have behaved as a prince should and attended to his studies!"

"Mircea put rats in your bedroom and locked the door," Vlad reproached him, and then motioned for his brother to cover him as he quickly moved to a different tree.

The tutor ran forward, but Radu's snowball hit him on the nose and he brushed the snow out of his eyes only after Vlad was safely hidden once more. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he massaged his temples vigorously. "Just wait until your father hears about this!"

"I believe I already have."

The tutor turned, surprised. "Domnul! I thought that you would not return for another two days."

"The negotiations with the merchants in Brasov were easier than we first thought. Why are you covered in snow?"

"The young princes have made it emphatically clear that they do not care to have lessons today."

"Have they now?" He cleared his throat. "Vlad, Radu, come out."

The two brothers exchanged glances and swallowed, but did as their father bid. The voivode, a tall, lean, dark-haired man, was leaning against a tree with his hand resting on a branch behind him. "Come here."

They went to stand beside their father. He subtly winked at Vlad, who grew unsettled at the mischievous twinkle in his father's eye. "Now, Vlad, you are the eldest here. What have you to say for yourself?"

"I-" Vlad's eyes widened in surprise and he barely stifled a yelp as his father shoved a handful of snow down the back of his tunic. "I'm sorry, sir."

"And Radu, what of you?"

Radu did not manage to suppress his cry as he was treated to the same thing, so his apology came out a bit stunted.

"There. They have suffered appropriately for their behavior. Now, if you will please allow me to spend time with my two sons before I am called off again, I would appreciate that greatly. Good day to you."

The tutor bowed, made his obeisance, and then left with a distinctly annoyed air about him.

"Have you been good otherwise?" He stroked Radu's hair as the boy hugged his leg. "I thought I told him not to give you lessons so close to the holiday. You're only young once; you should be enjoying yourselves. I will have to ensure that my orders are followed next time."

"_Da, Tat__ă_," Vlad replied as his father draped an arm around his shoulders. He gave in and wrapped his arms around his father's waist. "We missed you; we watched for you today. We're glad you're home."

His father's other hand gently came down to rest on his head. "As am I, my son. As am I."


End file.
